Going for the Record
by darveyscactus
Summary: Donna and Harvey receive an invitation to Scottie's wedding, which prompts a conversation about her, and some of their other past relationships.


"There's mail for you on the counter," he called from his seat on the couch as he heard the sounds of her kicking off her heels in the entryway and dropping her purse on the hall table.

"Hi honey, my day was great, thanks for asking! How was yours?," she sassed as she moved through their new townhouse to join him in the living room. She'd been at Columbia with Katrina all day recruiting new summer associates so they hadn't seen each other since they'd left the house that morning.

"My day is better now that you're home," he said sweetly, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she bent to give him a kiss. "Nice recovery," she said with a smile, patting his chest as she spoke.

"Who's sending us mail here anyways?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen, "we've barely lived here a month," she continued, Harvey growing more apprehensive with each word she spoke, not sure how she'd react to what was waiting for her.

Finally, Donna's eyes rested on large cream colored envelope sitting on the counter. Whatever she had been expecting to find, it certainly hadn't been that. By the style of the envelope, she knew it was a wedding invitation and the navy blue embossed 'DJS' monogram in the top left corner confirmed that the wedding in question was none other than Dana Scott's.

"So," she started, letting out a long breath, "do you want to go?" She didn't need to elaborate, she knew he knew what she was talking about.

"Do _you_ want to go?" he countered.

"Answer my question first," she replied, knowing that he wouldn't have brought up the mail so nonchalantly in the first place if he wasn't at least considering going.

"Honestly?" he asked her, reading her facial expression as she came to join him on the couch, unopened envelope in hand, before answering, "I'd like to," he admitted, "I actually know her fiancé - he was a year above us at Harvard," he explained.

She didn't respond right away, but contemplated his words as she turned the envelope around in her hands. She thought back to her last interaction with Scottie; a phone call nearly a year ago after she'd convinced Harvey to help her out of a jam with one of her clients. She'd be the first to admit that she hadn't always been a fan of her - they were far too different - but she'd softened to her over the years because, like she'd said the last time they spoke, they had one very big thing in common and that was that they'd both never stopped caring about Harvey.

He could tell that she was still contemplating her answer; her pursed lips a tell tale sign that her mind was working a mile a minute. He didn't want to press her one way or another, or start a fight - god knows they'd had enough fights with Scottie at the center to last a lifetime - but he did want to help his case in some way.

"Do you remember-," he started slowly, "last year when you convinced me to help her on that case?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about that actually," she said, a small smile spreading across her face.

"She called me when it was all done," he continued, "but I don't think I ever told you what she said."

"She told _me_ that she hoped one day you'd see what everyone sees," she admitted, catching him off guard as her eyes turned downwards to focus on their hands - now intertwined and resting on his knee.

"Well," he countered, "she told me that I needed to get my head out of my ass or I'd wake up one day and you'd be gone," he finished.

His comment made Donna crack a smile and she turned to face him, "she was certainly more blunt with you," she said, which made him smile too.

"So what do you say?" he asked, "will you be my date? I mean, who knows, without her, we might not even be here," he joked, using his free hand to gesture to their surroundings.

"Okay, calm down mister," she replied with a breathy laugh, "you said it was Samantha who got you to my door," she sassed.

"Well, it wasn't _not _her," he replied, an attempt to reason with her.

"In that case then," she said, nodding slowly with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I'm in," she finished, sarcasm replaced with sincerity.

"Are you sure?" he asked, unable to hide the smile on his face.

"I am," she agreed, confirming her words with a quick kiss.

"Besides," she breathed, sarcasm fully returned to her voice, "maybe going to a wedding will give you some _ideas,_" she said, drawing out the last word and bringing her very bare left hand to rest on top of his.

They'd talked about marriage several times, and they were very much on the same page. She knew he had a ring and that he'd ask soon enough, and she also knew that he wanted to surprise her with the question, but that didn't stop her from teasing him about it at any chance she got.

"You're relentless, you know that?" he countered, smiling and shaking his head at her.

"And you love me for it."

"That I do," he easily admitted, bringing her closer for a kiss.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the pair.

It was later that night and they'd finished dinner - leftover spaghetti and meatballs that he'd cooked the night before - and they were relaxing on the couch. As they sat, her feet were resting in his lap as she read a book and he looked over some paperwork.

"Anything," he said, setting the papers he'd been reading aside on the coffee table, her initial question and what was to follow piquing his interest.

"Did you love her?" she asked, the tone of her voice a bit unsure and he could tell from her slight hesitation that she'd been thinking about the question for most of the night.

"Truthfully?" he asked, locking eyes with her and asking silent permission to be honest with her, "Not in the way I was supposed to," he admitted, "but at the time I really thought I did."

"What do you mean?"

"I've known her for so long," he explained, "and for awhile, she was pretty much the only constant in my life. She knew so much about me, I felt like I never needed to explain myself, or open up about anything, or justify my choices. And at the time, I thought that was love," he finished.

"And when she worked at the firm?" Donna continued, "how did you feel about her then?"

"I think that was the closest I ever was to actually loving her, but I couldn't really," he paused, it'd been a while since he'd let himself think about that particular failed relationship, "because I couldn't trust her after she cheated on her fiancé with me. Part of me was afraid she'd do that to me too, so I kept her just far enough away so I'd have an out," he admitted with a sigh.

"But I do care about her," he continued, "She'd tied to all of my best memories from law school, and not just because we were sleeping together. Harvard/Yale games, parties after finals week, late nights at the pizza place on campus," he paused, "she was there for all of them."

Donna was silent for a couple seconds and he studied her facial expression in an attempt to understand how she was processing his response to her questions. He knew that it hadn't always been smooth sailing between the two women, and he hoped she wasn't already reconsidering her decision, but at the same time he didn't want to make her go somewhere where she'd be uncomfortable the entire time.

"Does this bother you?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh! No, it's not that," she quickly reassured him, "it's just that I never really gave myself the chance to know her, and now we're going to her wedding so I just had to ask," she explained.

"You're sure?" he asked once again.

"Yes," she said sincerely, patting his knee for more reassurance as she spoke.

"Anything else you want to know?"

"_Actually,_" she started, a playful smirk spreading across her face as she spoke, "yeah."

"What's the best sex you've ever had?" She asked, the question and the bluntness in which it was delivered causing him to choke on the sip of scotch he'd just taken and his reaction made her laugh out loud.

"_What _did you just ask?" he asked, looking at her utterly bewildered.

"Not person, but situation," she continued, clarifying her question and ignoring his.

"You, every time," he quickly countered.

"I know that," she said, dismissing him with a smile and a pat to the chest, "but other than me."

He smiled at her for a second before responding. This was without a doubt one of his favorite things about her - her ability to turn a serious conversation on its head almost instantly and make it fun and light hearted. He was surprised by the question, but decided to play her game - if nothing else as a way to get some of his own questions answered.

"Truthfully?" he paused, contemplating his answer for another second before speaking, "Scottie, the night we'd found out we passed the Bar. We felt young and powerful and hot, and the sex was the same," he explained.

His words brought a smirk to her face, which made him laugh as he turned to face her fully.

"You're picturing it," he challenged.

"No I'm not," she lied.

"Your turn."

"Mark, I think," she said, "It was a couple months before we broke up and we'd gone away for the weekend. He'd just gotten promoted and it was my birthday," she explained, setting the scene, "I remember laying next to him after - I was so happy and really thought I'd be spending the rest of my life with him."

She paused, and Harvey noticed the smallest change in her tone. Her eyes glanced downward for a second before she spoke again.

"But now, it's kind of hard for me to think about that time," she admitted.

"Because he made you choose between him and me?" Harvey guessed.

"Not entirely," she replied tentatively, realizing she was about to admit something they'd never talked about before. She glanced up at him for reassurance before continuing and let out a deep breath before she spoke.

"I saw him again, a couple weeks before Rachel and Mike's wedding," she paused, eyes averting his. She knew he would never judge her for what she almost did. They agreed in the early days of their relationship to leave the mistakes of the past to rest. She'd long overcome the feelings of doubt and insecurity that had led to her almost mistake, but whenever she thought too long about what could have been, she couldn't help but judge herself just the smallest bit.

"We had lunch once," she continued, "and it was like no time had passed, and I almost -," she trailed off, hoping Harvey would be able to fill in the blanks.

"But you didn't?" he asked, intrigued.

"He's married," she admitted, finally meeting his gaze but unable to hide the trace of embarrassment that washed across her face.

He didn't say anything in response, but pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her forehead, smoothing her hair as he did. She understood his action to be both a thank you to her for telling him and an understanding for what could have driven her to consider such an option in the first place.

After a few seconds, he turned to face her again, a mischievous grin spread across his face and Donna knew he was about to counter with his own kind of question.

"What's the best time you've had with me?" he asked earnestly.

"The night we got together," she answered without missing a beat.

"If I remember correctly," he sassed, rubbing his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, "_that _was more than one."

"_Specifically,_" she began to clarify, rolling her eyes at the technicality, "in the morning. When I woke up and you were still there," she said sweetly.

"So it's been all downhill since then, huh?" he quipped, which made her shake her head and let out a breathy laugh.

"No," she assured him with a smirk, "I mean, we've had times since then that have been more fun, or exciting," she continued, smiling herself as she saw the grin her words were putting on his slightly smug face, "but there was a new closeness between us that time. It was like we could take a breath and _really _enjoy it, because we'd finally made it."

The simplicity of her answer made him smile and think of that little blue box hiding in the back of his closet, somewhere where he knew she'd never see it. He was planning on giving it to her soon - sooner than she probably thought - and he couldn't wait.

"For me," he started, knowing it was mere seconds before she pressed him to answer his own question, "it was in the kitchen - the night we moved in here."

Donna smiled at the memory and cuddled deeper into his side, his arm draped over her shoulder. "Yeah, because _you _didn't have to explain to the cleaning lady how whipped cream ended up on the ceiling," she sassed, unable to contain the laugh that bubbled out.

"She wouldn't have believed you even if you told the truth," he teased.

"Rituals aside, why that time?"

"Because you make me happy," he started, as if it was the most common sense answer in the world, "and being in this house, with its two extra bedrooms, I realized how lucky I am, and how excited I am for the rest of our lives together," he finished.

His earnest answer took her by surprise and she turned to face him, cupping his cheek for a second before pulling him in for a quick kiss.

"Okay, mine turn," he said, his signature Cheshire cat grin spreading across his face.

"Didn't you _just _ask a question?" she sassed.

"No you see, that was a cross to your question," he explained, using his hands to emphasize his point. "It's my turn to direct now."

"God, you're _such _a lawyer," she replied with a shake of her head, fake exasperation in her voice.

"What's your number?"

Donna spat out a laugh in response to his question and turned to face him, mischievous grin still spread across his face.

"How long have you been waiting to ask that question?" she replied, meeting his gaze with a smirk of her own.

"I was waiting for the right moment to present itself," he admitted, which made her roll her eyes at him, "but what is it?" he persisted, "20 before 20? 30 before 30?," he joked, before continuing with a small gasp, "40 before -"

"Finish that sentence Specter and you're a dead man," she sassed, interrupting him and poking her index finger into the center of his chest.

"If you _must_ know," she started, breathing out a sigh, "it's 12," she stated simply, before reaching for her glass of wine on the coffee table.

"Hmmm," he replied, taking a sip of his scotch as a small smile spread across his face.

"Hmmm what?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, "that's," he paused, his eyes lighting up as they locked with hers, "respectable," he finished, setting his glass back down on the coffee table before wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer into his side.

"Don't you want to know mine?" he teased, almost boastfully, squeezing the spot just below her rib cage where he knew she was ticklish.

"No I really don't," she replied, unable to suppress a laugh, "because whatever I'm imagining, I'm sure it's higher," she explained.

"You make me sound like a pimp," he said, the tone of his voice feigning hurt.

"Harvey," she said matter-of-factly, turning her head to face him, "I was your secretary for twelve years. You _were _a pimp."

"But you loved me still," he confirmed, flashing her that smile he reserved just for her.

"And right now," she shot back, " I'm not too sure why."

"Because of that time in the kitchen, and in the morning, and all the times in between," he explained, tracing lazy patterns on her arm with his finger tips.

She didn't reply, but the smile on her face grew as her mind wandered to the times he'd listed. All their talk of sex was making her want to stop talking and start doing, so she shifted positions on the couch and crossed her legs.

Harvey noticed her move, which made him smirk - he knew exactly what she was doing. He started to trace the tips of his fingers down the side of her neck in the spot that drove her crazy, just behind her ear.

She knew he knew what he was doing to her, and she couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. "I have one last question," she said in a near whisper, moving the hand that had been between them and trailing it up his thigh, "how many times have you _closed _in one night?" she breathed. "Four? _Five?" _she teased.

"We both know you know the answer to that," he replied, his husky breath in her ear.

"What do you say we break that record, _stallion," _she purred.

Before he could even reply with something equally suggestive, she was straddling him - hips pressed against his growing need and mouth open and wanting on his.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and as always leave a review with your thoughts! Sarah (catsballeths on Twitter) has convinced me to think about an epilogue for this, so stay tuned for that - maybe**


End file.
